by Rick Jones
In all, twenty-seven people were killed on the Manhattan Bridge.
#
The remaining Hellfire did not miss its mark, either. That missile impacted with a major structural support, causing expansion wires to strain and snap, leaving the bridge perilously weakened. As the tension on the remaining wires became too tight, they also snapped, the cords whipping dangerously about like the heads of a Hydra. Cars slowed, stopped; drivers panicked when traffic came to a standstill and they realized they were trapped. So they ran, and they screamed as they ran, the twang of popping wires sounding off all around them.
Mercifully, the Brooklyn Bridge held and no one was killed, although one man lost a leg when one of the steel expansion cables snapped and recoiled into his calf. His life was saved by a quick-thinking Good Samaritan who thought to use a belt as a tourniquet--a man who stopped to help instead of running with the stampeding crowd.
The bridge itself, though, was as good as dead. The city—so reminiscent of what happened in 2001—was once again paralyzed.
Overhead, the Reaper parsed through its stored instructions.
#
Bells and whistles blared in fire and police stations. Calls for help rang out as chaos ruled. Roads closed due to immoveable jams. On the horizon towards the cap of blue-gray clouds, muscular plumes of black smoke rose steadily.
Two F4-Phantoms quickly mobilized to the points of attack only to be confronted with the destruction wrought by the drone. The jet pilots quickly reacquired their target and moved to pursue, wending and diving until they were on the Reaper's tail.
In turn the MQ-10 reacted by waving its wings in a seesaw manner before shifting and diving to its right. The jets kept pace with the drone until they were almost on top of it, the pilots zeroing in. But the Reaper was elusive, suddenly moving left to right, then right to left, dipping then rising.
That's when the clamps holding the remoras lifted, releasing the MUAVs. They took to the air, hovered, got their bearings, then zipped toward their objectives as the Reaper--its payload exhausted--lifted skyward at a vertical angle.
The Phantoms stayed with the MUAVs, finding them impossible to line up and tack onto as they dipped and turned at circus-like angles on the way to their mark at the Holland Tunnel. But when the Phantom pilots saw the ground coming up fast, they peeled off and banked away.
There was no way to stop the remoras as the mouth of the tunnel loomed large and inviting.
No way at all.
#
The MUAVs entered the tunnel cavities, one each into the north and south sides. They moved at uncanny speeds, each working independently of the other as they flew a few feet above the traffic.
Quick and agile, they traveled toward the center of their respective tunnels, which were about a mile-and-a-half in length, and directly beneath the Hudson River. When they neared their designated points they slowed, hovered, and spun. Drivers began to honk their horns and point at the things, and then they exploded, their payloads of Semtex discharging with sufficient force to rupture the ceiling.
Cracks and fissures raced along the tiles, connecting one crack to another until parts of the walls and ceiling caved and tumbled. Veils of water began to cascade downward. The pressure on the damaged areas then became too weighted, too heavy, the ceilings of both tunnels collapsing as water from the Hudson spilled in uncontested, the rush of water lifting and carrying cars as if they floated. Vehicles were crushed into one another, killing the lucky ones on impact before they could drown.
When it was over, with the tunnels completely flooded, rescue divers would eventually discover countless bodies floating in gentle repose inside the tube. Their arms and legs would be extended as if they were skydiving; their hair would be fanning out behind them and moving with the course of the water’s soft flow.
Underwater, everything seemed to move with the slowness of a bad dream.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Raven Rock
The world was in ruins. At least to President Carmichael it was, as he stared goggle-eyed at the surreal live feeds coming out of New York City. Although the two bridges remained standing after sustaining the damages they did, the word on the Holland Tunnel wasn’t as glowing. It would take months to get a true accounting of the devastation, which was colossal, both in terms of dollar amounts and loss of life.
Carmichael buried his face into his hands. He had finally reached his limits. All this destruction from three drones, and he was incapable of stopping the carnage. Or Shazad.
“Mr. President.” Simon Davis sounded contrite. When Carmichael didn’t answer, Simon repeated himself. “Mr. President?”
The Commander-in-Chief lowered his hands. “Yeah, Simon.” He sounded just as defeated, if not more so. “What is it?”
“Sir, we just got word that the chopper team is three minutes out from their drop zone."
“And if Shazad is not at the bunker?” The question hung in the air because everyone knew the answer. And the answer was that America would continue to take whatever blows that Shazad dealt. Worse, it appeared that Shazad was stepping up his game by targeting higher profile areas. After the Holland Tunnel, what could be next? The Statue of Liberty? Times Square? The Pentagon?... Perhaps the power grid for the entire eastern seaboard? Suddenly America's infrastructure was like a rich palette of colors with which the artist Shazad would paint his masterpiece.
The president gave a sidelong glance at the monitors. The images were right out of a horror movie, he thought. The smoke after the fires, the flooding in the streets, the shaky, useless bridges. He forced himself to focus his attention on his team at the table.
“What’s he got left in his arsenal?” he asked everyone. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to this, but he wanted everyone to realize how much more of this misery they were in for unless they could do something about it, and soon.
Rimaldi recited from her notepad. “Most likely two Reapers, four Hellfires, and six MUAV’s.”
Enough for this animal to do what he's already done--again! President Carmichael could feel his stomach knotting. For the first time, he actually considered buckling to Shazad’s terms, especially now that the Pakistani principals were debating whether they should release Zawahiri into American hands in order to stop their own bleeding.
But there was one last option. One last hope.
Carmichael looked at his watch.
The chopper was arriving.
#
Tanner and his OUTCAST operators were approaching the bunker’s access road--really nothing more than a dirt path that wound into thick stands of trees. As the first SUV turned onto the road, the second vehicle followed. After driving a length of fifty yards, Tanner pulled over and got out of the SUV, waving to his team in both vehicles to gather up.
Standing by the hood of the first SUV, Tanner pointed deep into the forest.
“The bunker’s about two clicks in,” he said. “We take nothing for granted and assume that Shazad has set up a perimeter to protect the stronghold. I want eyes and ears open, people. Chance, you’re with me. We’ll move in from the southwest. Stephen, you’re with Nay. The two of you will come in from the south. Liam and Dante, from the southeast.”
The moment Tanner set the teams, Liam rolled his eyes, which Tanner caught.
“Problem?” Tanner asked him.
Liam turned to Alvarez with a steely gaze, appraising him. To Tanner, he said, “No, sir. We’re good.”
Tanner nodded in approval. “I want all units to converge on a central point inside the bunker. Find those missing drones. Incapacitate them. Any questions?”
There were none.
“All right, people,” Tanner stated. “Lip mikes on. Move with caution. Let’s all go home tonight after we get this done. Beers will be on me. Hoorah.”
In unison: “Hoorah.”
From a distance, the sound of chopper rotors were unmistakable.
Tanner sighed. “We’ve got company,” he said softly.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” asked Shah. “Bye-bye, element of surprise. If Shazad’s inside that bunker, he’s going to know that he’s not alone. He’ll be sharp, Tanner.”
“We knew they were coming, people. We just have to make the best of a bad situation. The plan doesn’t alter. We move in and if we have to, we provide support. Hoorah!”
Everyone: “Hoorah!”
“Godspeed, people. Move out.”
The teams spread out in formation, then pressed forward.
While the OUTCAST operators took their first steps into the brush, the chopper sped by overhead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The Bunker
“Shazad! A chopper comes in from the south!” called Abeer Hesbani, a young, spirited youth from Pakistan’s Baloch Tribe.
Shazad jumped to the control podium and stood beside Naji. But when he spoke it was to Abeer. “Are you certain?” he asked him.
Abeer gave a vigorous nod. “It’s closing fast.”
Shazad motioned to Naji to bring up a video feed from cameras mounted on the bunker’s exterior walls. “Let's see.”
Naji toggled switches and zoomed in. Dead center of the screen, a helicopter loomed. “Definitely military,” Naji said.
The muscles in the back of Shazad’s jaw worked. Then: “We’ve been compromised.” He tapped the button of his Bluetooth-like device in his ear and spoke into his lip mike. “Mufad.”
Mufad’s voice came over Shazad’s earpiece. “I hear it.”
“Then you know what to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shazad sounded off with urgency. “I’ll also be sending a unit to help you ready the remaining drones,” he told him. “I want both Reapers airborne, now!”
“Understood.”
Shazad then switched to a frequency shared by his entire team and issued commands to ‘hold the fort.’
Soldiers moved to grab their weapons, each man taking his assigned post.
Naji remained at the podium and keyed in the next set of coordinates.
Lut raced toward the runway along with two others to prepare the drones for launch.
Shazad struggled to contain the rage boiling inside him. Somewhere along the way he had shown his hand. As a leader, he took complete responsibility. Time was no longer a luxury, he considered. Nor did he have control over the president, since Carmichael had somehow leveled the playing field, exposing his base of operations. The chopper was simply a recon unit. As soon as they verified that Shazad was here, there was no doubt that Carmichael would send air sorties to raze the bunker to its foundation. By his estimation, they had....
“Twelve minutes,” he told Naji. “Can we get them both up there?”
Naji shrugged. “One, absolutely. But two, I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I want both of them sent to the same coordinates,” Shazad added. “I want America to be a dead-man’s land for the next thousand years. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“See it through.”
Shazad snatched his MP5 off the wall and headed for the tunnels.
#
The Black Hawk hovered over the camo-net, the wash of its rotors causing the loose covering of limbs and leaves on the net to blow away, affording a view of the runway beneath it. At the far end of the airstrip and close to the bunker, visible beneath the crisscross of netting, sat the two remaining drones.
“Bravo to Base Command.”
“Go ahead, Bravo.”
“We have an affirmative, Base Command. We have signed for the packages. I repeat, we have signed for the packages.”
“Copy. Engage, Bravo Unit. You have a 'Go!’”
“Copy that.” The chopper’s team leader offered a thumbs-up to his squad, a total of ten commandos, who were busy applying clips to rappelling lines.
Suddenly the Black Hawk pulled back and away, hard.
But it was too late.
Everyone on board was killed instantly. The Black Hawk wasn't down. It was obliterated.
#
Mufad’s aim with the ground-to-air rocket launcher was perfect. He had set his sights, took measured breaths, and pulled the trigger. The grenade corkscrewed away and picked up speed. Just as the sleek American attack helicopter pulled back and turned away--probably to pulverize the bunker and everyone in it--the grenade struck. The chopper was engulfed in a blaze of fire as it spiraled into a copse of trees and exploded.
#
Everyone in OUTCAST heard the explosion and saw the pillar of black smoke that quickly followed.
“They’re gone,” Tanner said flatly. “Air-to-ground.”
“You think they were able to confirm to Base Command?” Chance asked.
Tanner shrugged. “Don’t know. But I do know that Shazad is now on high alert. So the difficulty of our job just increased tenfold.”
He lowered his lip mike. “Team Commander to Unit, heads up. Primary team has been terminated, so now we’re pulling lead. Shazad knows that he’s been compromised, so his unit will be ready. Teams copy?”
“We copy,” said Nay.
Liam also chimed in. "Alvarez and I copy.”
“Careful, everyone,” Tanner said. “We’re walking right into the lion’s den.”
#
Raven Rock
“We know where he is, Mr. President! We have a confirmation!” This came from Steven Cayne, who appeared rejuvenated.
“The chopper unit?” asked Carmichael.
“Gone, sir. The airship was completely destroyed, with the entire team on board,” reported Rimaldi, who wasn’t as cheerful. Good soldiers had been lost and, although they now had his location, Shazad was still active.
“How long before we can get a sortie or two out there?” asked the president.
Rimaldi gave him one of her stiff answers. “The nearest fighters we can pull from detail, Mr. President, are twenty minutes away.”
Carmichael stood. “Can he get another drone airborne in that time?”
Rimaldi nodded. “Maybe both,” she said.
President Carmichael grunted in frustration. Then he focused his attention squarely at John Casey. “And Tanner Wilson's group? What are they called, again?”
"OUTCAST, Sir. It stands for--"
Carmichael waved him down. "I don't give a damn what the hell it stands for. What's their status now?"
“As you asked, Mr. President, I told him to stand down.”
“Contact him immediately,” he told him firmly. “Tell him he has a green light now.”
But Casey knew that Tanner was like a pit bull going after a three-legged cat. Despite the order to stand pat, he knew Tanner would have green-lighted himself long before Carmichael ever gave him the thumb’s-up. In fact, he was positive that Tanner and his team were already on the move. “Absolutely,” he said, suppressing a smile. “I’ll tell him.”
“Tell him that he has one priority,” the president added. “Tell him that he is to disable those drones before Shazad has a chance to get them flying.”
“And the sortie?”
The president looked at him without emotion. “He has twenty minutes before they strike.”
#
A chirp from Danielle lit up Tanner's receiver. He tapped his earpiece. “Go, Danielle.”
“Incoming from Director Casey.”
“Send him through.”
After a series of clicks, they were connected. "What's your twenty, Tanner?”
“We're about a half a click away.”
“Then you know the bird is dead.”
“We can see the smoke.”
“We lost eleven good men, including the pilot. So you and your Outcasts are it."
“I figured as much.”
“Before the helo went down, though, they were able to make confirmation. And by doing so, the president immediately pulled fighters from detail for a sortie on the compound. But between now and then, President Carmichael needs you and your team to go in and disab
le the Reapers before Shazad has a chance to get them airborne.”
“How much time do we have until the strike?”
“Twenty...make that nineteen minutes.”
Nineteen minutes wasn’t a whole lot of time. Not when Tanner and his team had to wade through Shazad’s men in order to get to the drones. “That’s cutting it way thin, John.”
“Tanner, the Phantoms are on their way. But there’s a possibility that Shazad can launch both drones before they get there. So you have no choice. We need you to go in and disable them.”
Tanner was quiet on his end, thinking, hyper-conscious of the time ticking away.
"Tanner.”
“I’m still here.”
“Just so you know, you now have eighteen minutes.”
#
While the chopper burned to the side of the runway, Lut and Mufad, aided by Lut’s team, prepared the first drone. They lowered the collapsible wings, locked them in place, and then loaded two Hellfires and three MUAV’s, the entire process taking less than four minutes.
Mufad gave a quick diagnostic check, then notified Naji that ‘all systems were go.’
The engines began to rev and pick up momentum.
And then the Reaper began its journey down the runway.
#
The bunker was a rectangular building made of concrete, with cutout windows high up on the walls providing natural light to its interior. Crawling vines had staked their claims on the edifice years ago, the leafy ropes thick and winding, making the bunker nearly invisible as it blended with the surrounding foliage. From the main housing unit, several tunnels branched away like the spokes of a wheel toward smaller units at their ends.
“This place is huge,” whispered Chance.
Tanner pointed to a spot beyond the trees, to where the runway would be. “Who and what’s inside is not our concern,” he told him. “The drones are on the field. They’re our priorities. We’ll circle our way around north, and then we do what we have to in order to keep those Reapers grounded.”